Last weekend we strolled up to Crow’s to see our third Ibsen play in the last 18 months: Rosmersholm. Like A Doll’s House and Hedda Gabler, the set was stark (though I don’t know if any set will ever be as stark as Doll’s House), the dialogue brilliant, and the messages timeless. It was all the more remarkable because one of the actors was filling in at the absolute last minute — stepping in earlier that day for the primary actor who’d had a death in the family.
Month: September 2024
The cornfield
Last week, when I was sitting down to dinner, I read the news about James Earl Jones passing. An absolute icon from my childhood on, even though it was years before I knew anything other than his voice. Darth Vader is truly one of the all-time great movie characters, and embodied by Jones’ voice as much as — perhaps even more than — David Prowse’s physical acting.
Only when I thought back through his filmography, though, did I realize how many more of James’ roles were meaningful to me over the years: The Hunt For Red October (and the other Jack Ryan films), Field of Dreams, Dr. Strangelove, even Conan. Plus a small but very hilarious part in Sneakers. There were also dozens of noteworthy film performances before I was old enough to know them, not to mention Broadway acclaim. And I was too old to have childhood memories of The Lion King, but chalk up another iconic voice performance.
RIP.
.:.
Spoilers, obviously:
Wine-related news (as if I have any other kind)
Earlier this week I tried The Rosebud for the first time. The food was quite good (deli plate; beets w/ grapes, hazelnuts, and marjoram vinaigrette; confit duck leg + seared duck breast w/ sour cherry, olive, and pistachio pistou) but the real standout was the wine selection. Lots of stuff by the glass I’m just not accustomed to seeing, like Picpoul, Pinot Nero (done as a white wine; so little skin contact it practically looked like water), and Semillon. I finished with a bit of Chinon for the duck.
At the very end of the week, I received some welcome news. As I’ve written about here before, I spent much of the spring and summer studying for the WSET level 3 award in wines. I wrote the exam on July 4th, and learned later that it takes ten weeks to get your results. At ten weeks + one day, I received an email telling me I’d passed the theory portion with distinction, and the tasting portion with merit (so, a little less strong than the theory). I was frankly much more worried about the theory bit, partly because that’s what most people fail, and partly because in my practice exams leading up to the final exam I’d not done very well. But some excellent coaching by the course instructor got me across the goal line.
I took a special bottle out of the cellar to celebrate. We had it last night with Lindsay’s little brother, after dinner at Avling and some Ed’s ice cream on the way home. Felt fitting for us three to celebrate with an award-winning Nova Scotian sparkling.
Little friend, big pancakes
Not all weekends feel rejuvenating — especially as summer is now most definitely turning into autumn — but this one did.
On Friday Laura came over after work. No occasion other than a catchup, and an excuse to pull some fun bottles out of the cellar. We started with a 2015 Bethel Heights Chardonnay from the Willamette Valley, which was underwhelming. I’ll say it before and I’ll say it again: I’ve been spoiled by Ontario chard. Anyway, then we ordered some pizza and did a side-by-side of two 2014 Syrahs: the 2014 Le Vieux Pin Équinoxe from the Okanagan, and the 2014 Esk Valley Winemaker’s Reserve from the Gimblett Gravels in Hawke’s Bay. It was the eldest vintage of my remaining Equinoxe Syrahs vs. a formative wine for Laura. I preferred the Le Vieux Pin; she preferred the Esk Valley. Lindsay kept shtum. Now that the WSET trauma has worn off (I still don’t know the exam result, by the way) it feels good to explore wine for enjoyment more than education.
Yesterday, feeling slightly worse for wear, I met up with my old friend Jenna at Ladybug. Apart from a brief hello at a random Fran’s diner, I hadn’t seen her in eight years — she was just always closer to Nellie than to me, and divorces have a way of cleaving friend groups. In any case, an Instagram comment led to us making a brunch plan, and it was lovely. I mean, the food was good and everything (my pancakes were covered in so much whipped cream I scaled the dish as much as ate it) but the real treat was just reconnecting with her. Hearing about her and the changes in her life, and seeing how well she’s doing. She was always one of the warmest and most genuinely charming people I’d ever met, and that hadn’t changed. We said our goodbyes for now, with hopes for another meetup soon. I got kind of emotional on my walk home — a little sad, but mostly grateful.
Skirl | Dan Dickinson 